Maybe
by therobotfangirl
Summary: Collage/Modern AU. First day. First day of what? Well in Merida's point of view, first day of questions, friends, rivalries and boys. In history everything changes. Green eyes, freckles, and a smile, maybe, just maybe everything changes. And Maybe, maybe can be our always. ROTBTFD fanfic! Rated T for minor swearing and eventual alcohol. I do not own image! Credit: Punziella
1. First Day

**So this is my first Mericcup fanfic and I hope you enjoy. I suck at summaries! :) Sorry if my language isn't up to perfection but I try my best, we all learn at different paces. I would be updating regularly if wanted and chapter will be long. Hope you love this and thanks for reading Maybe!**

* * *

September 1:

An annoying sound wavers in the air. The constant beeping hurts my ears. The beeping gets louder and louder by the second, demanding me to wake up. My hand slams a round button and the beeping stops. My eyes flutter open and I take notice of my surroundings. Sunshine beams shoot through my window. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and take a deep breath: today is the day; today is the first day of collage. I look around my walls that are completely blanketed with pictures of me family and friends and rock band posters, you can barely see an inch of my originally white walls. I groan and throw the covers on to the floor; I look back to my bed, longing to snuggle up in the warm sheets, but no. I have to do this, if I want to live my life like want to in the future, I have to do this. This is my part of the bargain. The wooden floor is cold under my bare feet; I rub my arms, as the change of heat was sudden. I smooth the crumpled sheets down to make it neat, and for later in the day my mother doesn't nag me about the messy bed. It's kind of hard to do the whole bed rapidly as it is a double bed. . I slump towards the bathroom, still dazed with exhaust, and my feet aim to arrive the sink and to not to fall on the way. The cool white glass is cold on my arms as I lean forward to twist the tap. The freezing water tingles through my fingertips and I soak my face with the refreshing delight of the water cleansing all the sleep and drool off my face. Now fully awake I stroll to my room and close the heavy wooden door. I open my oak wardrobe and pull out some ripped jeans, a worn out black Ramones T-shirt, a red and black flannel shirt, some white socks, and black boots. I look at my pyjamas, which aren't really pyjamas, just an old black Paramore shirt and red tartan pyjama bottoms, "Why can't we be best friends and I could wear you all day?" I joke to slightly faded Hayley Williams. I tug at my pyjama tee and slip on my bra, I spay some deodorant, then I put my T-shirt; patting it down making sure no wrinkles show. I put my flannel shirt as an over-shirt; I slip on some new underwear and my jeans. And finally my white socks and boots. As I tie my shoelace, I spot a pink post-it note at the corner of my eye just on the mirror of the vanity. I cautiously walk towards it, trying not to trip over my own shoelace; I grab the post-it and scan it rapidly,

 _Remember to brush_

 _Your hair Merida_

\- _Love_

 _Mother xxx_

I sigh as I see a brush placed on my vanity, just lying there waiting for me to use it. I grab it and struggle to brush my fiery curls, I manage to brush the top and I'm too lazy to brush all my hair so I comb it into a high ponytail.

* * *

I open my door and scurry down the stairs and run towards the kitchen. My mother as usual is sitting opposite my father, reading the mail, occasionally sipping her tea. She is wearing a silk green shirt and loose around the arms, denim jeans and black flats. Her chestnut hair is loosing its colour, braided into two plats, the bags under her eyes are growing, and her face is starting to wrinkle. My father is gulping down chugs of orange juice, and wolfing down on the eggs and bacon. He is wearing a green shirt, which really shows off his strong built, grey trousers and black hunting boots. His ginger hair is starting to grey like my mother, but unlike my mother he has no bags under his eyes, but a look of joy in his eyes. My brothers well, what can I say, there are three of them, Hamish, Hubert and Harris, the wee devils, as usual they are sitting on my mother's right, playing with their food. You can barley tell them apart, except by their clothes, they all wear the same styled shirts but different shades of blue, they are all wearing the same kind of navy jeans and same white Nike trainers, the ones with the black tick. My mother's eyes follow me and she starts to talk but I don't hear what she is saying, "Merida!"

"Yes Ma?"

"I asked ye if ye have yer admission letter?"

"Yeah, its in me bag," I point to the black bag in the corner, " Don't worry about me."

I grab an apple from the fruit bowl and sit down on my mothers left,

"Any mail for me Ma?"

"Expecting any?"

"No, just askin'."

"Then no, not today at the very least."

I bite down on my apple and chew slowly. I look across the table, and Hamish is gone. Oh no, where is he now? I hear a shriek from the corridor. I throw the remains of the apple in the bin and I rush to the corridor to see what the hell happened. What I'm seeing well I can't really explain.

Our housekeeper- Maudie, had been egg bombed and some kind purple goo splattered on her head, I couldn't help but laugh, "Aw, Maudie- Ye poor soul!"

She stood there shock stricken, blinking, I grabbed her hand and lead her upstairs to the bathroom. "Maudie why are they so mean to ye?" I mumble, getting and sponge from the bathroom cabinet, and I soak it under the tap. I gingerly wipe the muck off her face, and tell her to change her clothes. She nods and does what she is told. I chuckle to myself; I take my toothbrush from the sink and begin to brush my teeth.

I stroll back to the kitchen to collect my bag.

"Bye Guys!" I open the white door and exit my house. We are a rich family to be honest. My father owns DunBroch industries and my mother owns the biggest cotillion in the world. Our house may not seem much, but that is just our city house. I literally begged them to get a normal house, like one that a normal teenager would live in.

* * *

We have bigger houses all around the country. It is the sunny day, the warm sunshine heating my milky skin, and my blue lakes that I call eyes, reflect the gold off the sun and turning my eyes honey coloured. The pavement is white and still wet from last night's minim shower. I want to get out the sun as quick as I can so; I quickly search through my bag for my car keys, eventually find them and unlock my car. My beloved car, my car which I, myself actually bought, my beautiful black convertible Mustang with white wheels. I named it Angus, I don't really know why but it has a nice ring to it. I open the door and enter my car. I started the engine, turn the cooler on, open the windows and began to drive. My fingers tap against the steering wheel, when I hear the song playing. I crank up the volume on the radio as it began to play _Thanks for the memories by Fall Out Boy_ , I barley know the words but I start singing towards the chorus,

" _Thanks for the memories_

 _Even though they weren't so great_

 _It taste like you only sweeter…_ " I keep on singing the chorus until; the music fades and then the music changes. A few Paramore, Alien Ant Farm, Metallica songs play, I don't know some of them but still listen. I see a navy blue flag with black drawings of a dragon, an arrow, a staff and a sun on it with the words in gold: ' _We are the strong shining rising dragons, We are Bravehood University'_ I thought the name was stupid at first but it has grown on me since I've seen the name everytime I've receive a letter. I pull over and park at the student parking lot. The school is quite majestic, huge and modern. There are at least five floors of classes, and six buildings. Some of the buildings' walls are mostly windows, which were probably one sided as you cannot see what is in the inside, the windows reflect the sky, as they are blue, with a black frame around them. The other buildings are white with a golden rim and big mahogany doors. One of the buildings is a library, which unlike the others, is antique and colossal in width, it has a triangular roof, with carvings that seemed Roman or maybe Greek. Other carvings were on the walls too, very ancient, probably establishing how old the school or library is. I step out my car and hover a hand over my eyes to block the sun. A blonde with flawless sun-kissed skin, brown eyes, a campus T-shirt and a warm smile approaches me, "Hi I am the registration girl, can I see your admission letter please?" she bats her eyelashes sweetly, some students pass behind her.

"Yeah sure." I search my bag and bring out a scruffy piece of paper,

"Here." I pass her the letter; she scowls at the condition but still reads it,

"Merida Dunbroch?"

"Right here" I hesitantly smile at her.

"Ok," her sweet attitude changes, probably because of how messy I am, well anyways why would she need to care? She is sourer towards me now, snobbier, "Mmm-Hmm, here is your freshman pack, map of the school, timetable, and bla bla bla." She obviously doesn't want to help me anymore and doesn't want to seem very incisive or she just wants me to end the conversation, I give her a fake smile

, " Well I thanks for your help but," I pull my phone out of my pocket, "look at the time I _really_ need to get to class so-." She cuts me off and begins to speak to me- rude, "Oh your first two classes are cancelled by the way, and it's the introduction assembly." She pointed towards two double doors to the right, which many students are entering, "You see those doors?" I nod even thought it is a rhetorical question, "Yeah, well to the end of the corridor, to your left, there is the assembly hall, ok?" her tone is back to sweet, so I'm getting mixed feelings about her and maybe she is on mood swings? I'm not sure but I take her directions, "Thanks, urrmm-,"

"Elizabeth Mason,"

"Thank you, Elizabeth Mason."

"No problem, well I guess I would see you around, bye newbie."

"Bye." She waves goodbye and I repeat with a smile.

* * *

I follow her directions to the hall and I look around noticing every detail, the walls are white and the floor is a nice mix of colours but the material was obviously wood. The school flag hangs from the celling just behind the stage. Many artworks are being displayed on the walls for decoration. There are a few windows that light up the room in an angel, some stray beams of sunshine ricocheting against some art pieces. The room is unique and could be mistaken for a large art workshop. I stroll down the hall's aisle and take a seat near the back, last seat in the row. I'm sitting next to a girl who has a Starbucks coffee in one and the other hand rapidly drumming at the side of her chair, she takes shaky sips of her coffee, she looks _really_ nervous,

I place my hand over hers to stop the constant noise, "Hey, don't be nervous, you are going to do great." She looks at me with confusion, then sighs,

"Thanks, I'm Leonie Bianchi." She has an accent, probably Italian. She has dark brown hair, olive skin, big brown eyes sympathetic yet mischievous and covered by black geek framed glassed. She is wearing a teal tank top, jeans and brown boots and her chestnut hair is braided to the side in a fishtail.

"I'm Merida, nice to meet you." She blinks a few times and smiles. The hall is filled with chatter and random papers flying in the air. The talking begins to quiet as the head-teacher approaches the stage. She coughs twice to get every single students attention. She begins her speech but I blank out, and all I see is her mouth moving no words physically coming out. She has black hair in a tight bun; she wears a blue pan-suit and a white blouse. She is wearing navy heels, and a ton of make up: it makes her look like a Barbie wannabe not somebody you would look up to or listen too. She stops speaking for a minute, I think she stopped and we can all go now, until she shuffles her papers and talks again. I mentally groan to myself wishing that she would shut up; I get bored easily if it includes adults and education. I don't really mind learning but it depends on what I'm learning.

* * *

I get a soft nudge on the shoulder, and I suddenly wake up from my thoughts, Leonie was there looking as innocent as ever, she whispers to me something but I don't hear it, then she rolls her eyes towards the teacher, then at the door. The gesture is pretty clear, showing that we could go now. We start talking as we make way to our classes, we get to pick them online, she is heading towards English and I'm going to History, they both are on the third floor. We climb the stairs; well I run, still controlled by my childish fear that something is chasing me up the stairs. Leonie laughs and asks me why I run upstairs and I explain to her that I think a monster is chasing me. It makes her laugh even harder, she apologies to me for laughing at me, but I don't really care, cause to be honest I'm laughing myself. I can't help it, when someone laughs at something about me that is actually funny, my lips twitch for a smile, and I just laugh. The bell rings which means we have to go to classes. I skip to my history class, just in time for the teacher to give us our seating plans. Our teacher is called Mr. Shademan; he isn't old, maybe in his forties. He has grey hair at the sides, bold at the top. He wears a white shirt with thin purple vertical stripes, with matching purple tie. Dark grey trousers, loose at the end like bellbottoms, and black pointy shoes that remind me of elf shoes. I mentally laugh. "Good morning class, welcome to Bravehood University," he announced, "Hope you enjoy this class." He grabs a clipboard from his desk and begins to read names,

"Pablo Costa and Finn Smit

Elsa Winters and Jack Frost…" He says some other names but I don't really pay attention,

"Rapunzel Corona and Flynn Rider,

Merida DunBroch and Hiccup Haddock." When I heard my name recently, I reacted.

"Yes sir,"

"You and Hiccup are partners for the semester and you'll be sitting by the window, back row." What kind of parent would call their son Hiccup? Poor soul. I walk to the desk in the far off corner, keeping a quick pace to be first to the window seat. During my steadied pace I concentrate on nothing but that seat, I want that seat, I seem childish at this point, but then I would be able to look outside the window when I am bored. Because I'm too keen to get that seat I don't take notice of my surroundings, and suddenly I hear a thump and I am on the floor. I thoroughly rub my head; I've bumped into someone.

"Sorry," all I could see is forest green eyes, light freckles and a hand reaching out for me. I take the hand to hoist myself up; man, he had a good grip.

"Sorry, I was just getting to my seat," he brushed his chocolate hair back and placed his hand forward, "Hi, I'm Hiccup." _Oh,_ I thought to myself _so he is the poor soul._

I shake his hand and introduce myself "Hey, I'm Merida. I guess we are partners.

Dips on the window chair." He chuckles,

"Yeah. Sure. Don't mind." I sit down in my seat, I hear a creak and look towards Hiccup, "Ye alrigh' there laddie?"

"Yeah." He didn't look alright, his face was scrunched up when I looked at him, and his jaws were clenched, he probably was wincing, " Stupid prosthetic leg." I hear him mutter to himself.

"Ye got prosthetic?" I lean on the table and pat his chair, gesturing for him to sit down; he instantly receives the signal and sits.

"Yeah." He says scratching the nave of his neck,

"How?" I say intrigued,

"Personal." He sighs, "Sorry."

I'm quite annoyed but I respect his privacy, "Don't worry about it, I'm just curious."

He sighs of relief, and gives me a crooked smile. "If we ever become friends, would you tell me?" I ask batting my eyes as innocently as I can,

"W-well," he stutters, I giggle, "Maybe." He winks at me, I blush but why. He smiles and I nudge him in the ribcage, not that hard, but hard enough for he can feel it

Mr. Shademan coughs at us, and I straiten my posture.

"As I was saying," Mr. Shademan continues, "The Romans attacked the Celts because they wanted power and control…"

"Bla bla bla, is all I hear right now you know." He whispers in my ear, his breath warm against my skin and it sends a tingling sensation down my spine. I giggle at his comment.

"Mr. Haddock isn't there anything you would like to say to the class?" Mr. Shademan says, not paying attention to his PowerPoint anymore. He taps his pencil on his desk waiting for an answer. Hiccup stands up and I accurately see him. He is tall, with a slim built, but if you looked closely you could see he has muscles, he has beautiful, pure green eyes, light freckles and shaggy chocolate hair. He is wearing a plain black V-neck, a green hoodie with rolled up sleeves, ripped jeans, and black adidas trainers, he's kinda buff some might say. "Yes sir, I do have something to say." He says confidently, I admire that.

"Proceed then Mr. Haddock." Mr. Shademan mumbles unimpressed.

"I think Boudicca should have been a lady and let the Romans take over, so that would not lead her to suicide and her daughters being raped." I'm gob smacked; I can't believe he said that. Boudicca is one of my role models, I believe strongly in her decision and he just says she should have been a lady. Fuck that shit. I stood up and my chair falls backwards but I don't care, my anger gets the better of me, "I disagree with his statement!" I shout across the classroom.

The teacher looks at me with amusement, "Ah, a debate. I always like a good debate. Argue, convince me, whose side should I take?" Hiccup has a smug look on his face and cracks his knuckles and I take that as a challenge. I clear my throat, "Boudicca made a statement, and she showed that women can be powerful if they just harvest that courage from within." I felt all eyes on me, waiting for me to say more, I stood higher and prouder, "She was a warrior and I respect that, she was protecting her territory, her people, everything she loved. She showed that if you really cared for something you should stand up for it. No matter what it takes you should stand up for it." I really mean that, my speech is from my heart and it felt like I was saying it to myself. Hiccup slowly clapped and chuckled, "And all of that was for nothing. The Romans won in the end. They are men after all."

I clench my fists, and my face fills with heat, "SO YE BELIEVE IN PATRIARCHAL SOCIETY?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Ye little-," the bell rings meaning it's the end of the lesson.

"Well that's pretty much it." Mr. Shademan announces, he opens the door and gestures us to go, "Your homework is to make up a debate, girls against boys about patriarchal society, and decide if what Boudicca done was a good idea. Class dismissed." People race out the door and the hallway is crowded with students, like bees in a beehive, you could barely move around. Many people in my history class congratulate me for standing up and not making the class boring. I just smile in response.

* * *

"Merida!" I see Hiccup, runs towards me, "Merida!" he finally reaches me and smiles. "What do ye want?" I say my voice filled with venom and disgust.

"Do you really think I'm a patriarchal type of man little miss redhead?" he crosses his arms and tilts his head.

"Yes…" I admit, suddenly finding an interest in my shoes that are nervously shifting.

"Well that's because you don't know me." He says, I lift my head slowly and I see a ghost of a smile. I shrug and reply, "Yeah, because you wont tell me who you are."

"Well, that's the hard part you see." He puts his arm around me (as if we were long time friends), his hand hot on my shoulder- it's reassuring, "I won't really tell you who I am, and you'll have to figure it out. I'll only tell you if I feel like it." I shove off his hand from my shoulder.

"Well then, when you feel like it, talk to me." I stick my tongue out at him and he smiles. "Ok. But we should hang out some time." He grabs my arm and takes out a pen from his pocket and starts scribbling something on my forearm and then leaves.

I stand here for a while, putting the pieces together in this puzzle of life. What just happened? I check my forearm and see he has written his phone number and a note

 _We should hang_

 _Out. Call me_

 _\- H_

I see him walk away from me and he disappears at a hallway turn. A familiar voice approaches me and a slender hand is placed on my shoulder,

I turn round to find Leonie, with a goofy smile plastered on her face, "Who was that?" she raises an eyebrow at me, "he's cute." I shove her playfully. She laughs,

"My history partner." I say neutrally.

"Well then sign me up for history." She says dopily, I chuckle in response.

* * *

Our first lessons were cancelled because of assembly then its history and now its lunch. The day has sped up I don't even know the time. All I know is that I'm hungry.

I buy a southern fried chicken sandwich and a fruit pot. I sit down with Leonie at a table and begin to eat. I unwrap the food packaging and eat slowly, whilst listening to Leonie speak, something about English being really creative. A few of Leonie's classmates come and sit with us, and a girl I recognize as well.

I put down my sandwich and swallow the food I have in my mouth, "Rapunzel, right? From History?" she nods silently. She is really pretty and I would be lying if I said she wasn't. She had long blonde hair, which looked like a ribbon of pure gold. Huge, gorgeous, green eyes and very light freckles. She has flawless tanned skin and a pearly white smile. She is wearing a creamy white tank top with lace around the collarbone, a denim vest over it. She has a baby pink ballerina skirt and white pumps. She has bangs around her sides, which frame her face beautifully.

"Yeah, and you're Merida, the girl who stoop up in history?" she says whilst taking small bites of her salad, "Yep." I let the p and the end pop. I rub my eyes and continue eating. Lunch isn't silent but I don't speak, I listen into their conversations: they are mostly girly, about cute boys and make-up and whatever. But then Rapunzel says something that interests me; "You know there is a freshman party this Friday." She points her fork around whilst she is talking, "And I heard that everybody is invited, are you guys coming?" There were murmurs across the table and eventually we all said 'yes' in sync. I take a few bites of my sandwich and ask, "Where is it?" Rapunzel looks up, smiles, one of those sweet smiles that give warm vibes, "It's on the coast, in Atlantis beach, at…" she strokes her chin, "Twelve probably." Yeah that would be nice I don't think I'm doing anything. I think me and Rapunzel would be good friends one day.

* * *

I throw away the empty packaging in the bin and make my way to my next lesson: Physical Education, archery. I've been taking archery since I was small, and I think I'm pretty good at it. I'm not Olympic good but I can hit the bull's eye any day. Part of my bargain was that I have to have academic studies but my mum allowed me to do archery. I'm so glad about that. I brought my sports clothes, just incase and because I know my timetable for today so the day before I knew what to pack. I go to the girls changing room and look for an empty space for I can get changed. The changing room is quite big lime green walls and pitch-black flooring, there are at least a few dozen people changing. I go into my own changing slot, you might say and switch into my full on Nike clothes. I'm wearing my white Nike shirt that is kind of transparent so my black sports bra shows. I'm wearing black running shorts with a white tick, and my bright blue trainers with the pink tick. The day is sunny and I'm really glad about that, but I hate it when I exercise and it's hot because I get extra sweaty. I cuff my hands over my eyes to see clearly where I'm heading. I spot the sport stadium and make my way there. The stadium is huge and has (approximately) a mile long track, a few target set up, and lines on the Astroturf to show the football pitch. Many red benches are in the corner for the school and apposing schools can watch the game. A few people are sitting on the benches with note-pads and pens, probably doing journalism, whatever they are doing, they are observing us and writing down our every-step. There are a couple dozen people in the stadium doing sports but today it's reserved only for the girls so we have more space. There are other places for sport but so far this is my favorite. I fee like an athlete in a stadium, people calling out my name. My fantasies are ruined as I hear the sudden piercing sound of the whistle. The sports instructor tells us to run around the track and to stretch our arms. I run a few laps around the track and try to over take a girl in front of me. She had her sleek black hair in a ponytail, bouncing up and down whilst she ran. From what I see of her she has light tanned skin and long eyes, she is probably Asian. _Wait I can't just assume she is Asian. But she probably is Asian._ Her long eyes are a fierce shade of brown, which I think is impossible, she is athletically faster than me, but I always love a challenge. I quicken my pace to, catch up with her. "Hi, I'm Merida." I breathe heavily, she looks at me and runs faster, but I eventually we match pace again, "And you are?" she looks at me, rolls her eyes and then sighs, "Not interested in making friends right now."

She clearly doesn't want to speak, but I really don't care I'm persistent, like a puppy. I hear a whistle and I stop and hold my knees to catch some air.

"So what's your name?" I ask, wiping my brow from sweat.

The Asian girl sighs, "My name is Mulan, and I'm a freshman." She awkwardly smiles at me, "Me, too." I reply with enthusiasm in between small huffs of air. She looks at me in disgust and walks away from me. The instructor tells us to pick out a bow and quiver that suits us most. I pick a medium sized silver bow with zigzags carved into its smooth surface. In the quiver there are dozens of arrows, thin, metallic and sharp. We take time from moving away from the targets. At first I'm terrible at close shots. But eventually when I get further away shots, I hit the bull's eye. My instructor is impressed and congratulates me, by patting me on the back. She gives me a few tips on how to hit the bull's eye from up close but apart from that she is pleased with me. However Mulan exceeds in this and hits the bull's eye no matter what, from up front or far behind she hits it. Later when she takes the extension, she fails. The extension is 30m from the target and your bow gets tightened. Her arrows no doubt hit the target, but only around the edge on the white. I want to do the extension, long distances are my main strength, I want to show Mulan that I'm more than what I seem. I want to impress her, show her what I got. I ask the teacher to tighten my bowstring for the extension and she agrees that I should try. I go to the 30m limit, and look around making sure everybody is looking, especially Mulan. I see her piercing eyes looking at me so I take my shot. I wield the bow in my hand, the iron cold in my hand, the bow is comfortably placed in-between my fingertips and it melts into me like it specifically made for me. I slip an arrow out of the quiver and line it with my bow. _I can do this,_ I think to myself, my body beaded with sweat anxiety, worry. Worried that I would fail, worried that I would make a fool out of myself, acting so confident and in the end being the jester of the group. I'm worried that the world would never know what Merida DunBroch is worth. _I can do this._ I struggle to reciprocate the arrow but eventually, I pull the arrow to my cheek and the smooth yet jagged metal grazing my cheek. _I can do this._ I hold my breath. And let it go along with my arrow. My arrow flies in the air like and eagle, and sails in the air, like a boat on the tranquil sea. The arrow finds its partner and meets up with the bull's eye. I see many jaws drop and hit the ground. I can imagine their jaws dropping and making a rattling noise as they hit the ground like in the cartoons. Many feelings race in my mind: happiness, joy, and pride. I'm proud of what I did. I'm proud that I actually tried to do something that I thought I would fail, but in the end the result were positive. All the worry has washed away and I'm feeling way better. Mulan approaches me and places a hand on my shoulder, unlike Hiccup's; it's cold and unfeeling. She is giving me one of those looks that say I-don't-like-you-but-everybody-is-looking-and-I-don't-want-to-seem-like-a-sore-loser. Her eyes ring with hatred and possibly jealousy, "Good job out there, for a red-head." My cheeks heat up with fury, what makes her think that she can talk to me that way? It makes me feel insecure, that it's bad to be a red, that I'm a disgrace, that I'm a mistake. That redheads aren't supposed to be good at anything. It's like saying to a feminist 'like a girl' or 'for a girl' that girls are nothing. You just don't say that. I clench my fist, and my brows furrow,

"Why can't you admit it?" I shout at her making sure that people can hear what I'm saying, "That I'm actually good at archery. Why can't you complement people when they are actually _better_ than you?" I say powering my anger into my voice. Mulan looks frightened at my sudden change of tone, and just sashays and walks away holding a certain finger at me. I huff and go back into the changing rooms.

* * *

As I stroll to the changing room, a certain somebody comes by my side.

"Hey, Mer!" Hiccup says and he swings an arm across my shoulders, his green eyes shining in the sunlight. "Mer?" I ask, rolling my eyes and scrunching nose, "It sounds like I'm a mermaid."

He chuckles at my comment. I still feel is warm, calloused hand on my shoulder, "You do realize that I'm soaked with sweat?" I exclaim with a smirk tugging at my mouth.

He looks at me and grins, "I am too, y'know." He adds and I immediately realize his navy rugby jersey and black with a single white stripe shorts, and black football boots with metal studs, "So we're even?" I query mockingly smiling like an idiot,

"I guess we are." We arrive to the dressing room and go our separate ways to change. I take a shower, the warm droplets soothing my skin. I use two towels to cover my body and dry my hair. I change into my clothes and head outside.

* * *

Afterwards I don't see Hiccup for the rest of the day. Because it is the end of school I make way to my mustang- Angus. The parking lot is filled with students as everybody is heading home. Somehow I manage to reach my car in a few minutes. I unlock my car door and enter. I start the engine and make sure nobody is in front of me. I wait for a couple of students to cross by me and shortly after they pass me I turn for I can exit the school's premises. It isn't as hot as it was in the morning but its still warm, so I don't turn on the cooler but put the windows down. I turn up the heat and begin to do my daily routine to singing to songs on the radio in the car. I don't like listening to the channel twice a day so I change it for I can hear something different. I'm not that type of girl who is tied up to one type of genre of songs, but I'm not really into pop. I'm more of an Indies folk, rock; pop rock, occasionally Adel or Sam Smith kind of girl. Luckily for me, on the new channel I'm listening to, I know the song. My instant reaction is that I'm tapping the beat, more towards the chorus I begin to sing,

" _Can I lay by your side?_

 _Next to you-u-u, you-u-u_

 _And make sure you're all right_

 _I'll take care of you-u-u"_

* * *

I grin to myself, because of my not-so terrible singing. I have to break too quickly cause there is a hasty change of light on the traffic light. I rap my fingers impatiently on the wheel waiting for the little red light to flash green. If I ever tell my mother about this she'll think I'm irresponsible and take my precious car away. And I _really_ don't want that to soon as the light illuminates green, I make my way home immediately. After a few minutes or so I arrive home, and I hear the beautiful clicking noise of the keys when the door opens- its good to be home. I close the door quietly trying not to signal my mum that I'm home or she would ask me all about me if I made any friends, if I had all my things prepared, if I got in trouble, if I ate healthy food at lunch, all of that crap. So I try to avoid her until lunch, then she would talk to the boys about their first day of secondary school and forget about me. I tiptoe up stairs and then there is a creaking sound. _Oh crap! The floorboard is loose._

"Merida! Is that you?" she yells from the kitchen. I blew my own cover,

"Yes mum its me!" I respond, crawling back down the stairs,

"Oh honey how was school?" she asks, her voice trailing behind me. I slowly turn around and see her; she has her hands on her hips and waiting for an answer, her foot tapping on the wooden floor. I give her what she wants, "Sorry mum can't talk now, and I've got a tone of homework, bye!" I race upstairs to my room, catching a glimpse of my mother's widen eyes and open mouth. I enter my room and leap into my bed, hugging my pillow and resting my back. I really want to talk to Hiccup, but then I would seem too desperate, I could ask him about the History homework and make it seem casual and for my mother doesn't judge me either. I read the number off my arm, which is slightly smudged from the sweat and shower but it is readable and I tap the numbers on my phone. The phone begins to ring and I'm anxious and hope that I got the number right. A familiar voice on the other end responds and gives a distant- "Hello?"

"Hey, Hiccup is that you?" I ask, nervously drumming my fingers on the bed's edges,

"Yeah, who is this?"

"Its me, Merida." I say wishing that he wants to talk with me,

"Oh! Hey! Mer, the Mermaid!" He jokes, and it sets off a feeling in my head that he wants to talk, I change my position on my bed and now I lay on my stomach, elbows dug into the mattress, on hand with the phone, the other a finger twirling my own hair. I bite my lip, "So my mum thinks I'm doing homework, got any excuses to avoid your parent?" he pauses and I don't hear his voice for a while. Later he lets out a hushed "hmmm". I put my hand under my chin, waiting for a reply. After a few minutes he finally comes up with an answer, "Nope." I sigh frustrated, I'm so stupid to think he has an answer, he continues talking, "I've got the same problem with my dad, he keeps asking me about my first day of uni and all that shit." I laugh. My mum calls my name and asks me to come down stairs. "I have to go, call you soon." I tell Hiccup and I hang the phone. I slip my phone back into my jean pocket.

* * *

I skip down the stairs and call out for my mum, she replies with a loud "what" and I follow her voice to the kitchen. Her back is towards me, and steam flies out of the pots and pans, "Merida honey, can you be a dear and wash the dishes for me?" she demands, as she blows the steam for it to not pass the kitchen premises.

"Where's Maudie?" I moan, her head turns around to face me: her eyebrows creased, and her face filled with annoyance, "Well, I thought now all my babies are grown up, they could do things for themselves so I let her go." I look at her trying to figure out if her answer is true or not, "Are ye sure ma?"

"No. She was on her last straw and Hamish pulled it. She quit! She actually quit!" she waves her hands in the air with irritation,

"I can't believe she didn't quit earlier," I mutter under my breath, but it wasn't quiet enough for my mother's wolf-like hearing to not hear, she has a livid look on her face and points at the sink, "GO DO THE DISHES!" I groan and reluctantly stomp to the sink. My mother stares at me waiting for me to begin washing. I don't mind doing them, but the thing is that I think that if I make a big fuss so often, she would get so annoyed and never ask me do it again. I turn on the hot water and let it heat up. I squirt fairy liquid over the dirty dishes and take hold of a yellow sponge. I begin to scrub the dishes and then dunk them in the soapy water, rinse and repeat. This is a routine for a while, I get bored and I begin to hum a sweet tune that my mother used to sing to me when I was a wee lass. I continue crooning the soft melody. I loose track of time and when I reach out for another plate, I swipe thin air and realize I have finished the whole lot of plate. I turn around to the drying lot and a bunch of plates; cups, mugs, pots and pans are sparkling with little rivulets dripping from their surfaces. My sleeves are soaked with water, so I roll them up. I turn around and see my mum serving the food, she asks me to help her and to take the plates to the table. I gently place the plates on the olive green mats, and lay the cutlery in the order my mother likes it: fork on the left and the knives on the right and occasionally the knife in the middle and spoon on the right. My mother is very fussy when it comes to perfection, if it's not perfect, it's not proper, and if it's not proper it has no meaning. It really pisses me off, but I act calm and collected. I act so much that I'm getting good at it and I could the star of the next big hit movie. I sit in my seat and I wait for the others to sit: for I can begin to eat. My mother would consider it rude if I eat food when not everybody is seated. Three blurs of curly red hair, raced to the table giggling, being pursued by giant thumping and a roar, "BOYS!" The ginger triplets sit in their seats, moving uncontrollably. I look at them with curiosity, "What did ye do now?" I say giving them a stern look; Harris points a shaky finger at the door. I initially see the creamy shell coloured wall, then adjust the angle of my head to see my father: with a purple beard. I start to chortle and point a finger at my dad, kicking my own chair. My mum steps towards the table, with a delicious-looking bowl of spaghetti in her hands, she sighs and looks at the boys, "What in the world were you thinking?"

"To turn Da's beard purple," Hubert exclaims, pursing his lips to hold back the tiniest of smiles,

"Very funny Hubert." She muttered sarcastically, "Now how did this mess happen? Fergus?" Dad cleared his throat to speak, his face is expressionless, but you can see in his eyes that he is filled with rage, "Elinor, I was about to trim my beard, cause it was getting too long, so I began to wash me beard and my soap has been tampered with. So now my beard is purple." My Da's voice is rich and strongly Scottish, it normally is raised and confident, but as he spoke it's more quiet and hoarse, as if he were hurt by the actions. He can't be sad can he? He can be furious, but sad? I shake my head to clear the thought. I really want to change the subject, clutch my fork,

"Can we eat?" I can hear my insides growling for food, yelling at me for not giving it food. My mother nods and I shove a fork-full in my mouth. The flavor excites my tongue; it's tomato salsa, with mushrooms, pepper, mixed spices and meatball dances along my taste buds. Sometimes I wish that I am Italian so people can think of me and 'my people' as amazing because of pizza, pasta, ice cream and Ferraris. But I'm not Italian I'm Scottish and whenever people find out about that, they always ask me if I've eaten haggis or they try to imitate my accent which is really annoying. To be honest haggis isn't really bad, people are melodramatic about and say it's disgusting and pretend to hurl. But it's seriously not bad, there even is haggis pizza- there my fantasy has come true, I'm somehow Italian! After a few forkfuls, I finish my plate and ask if I can be excused and my dad replies with a nod. I'm so glad I haven't been asked about university, because of all the commotion with the triplets.

* * *

I retreat the table and take my plate to the sink. I wash it and leave to dry. As I pass the dinning room, I hear shouting and moaning, so I eavesdrop by the door. I can't really hear what they are saying but I can make out a few words, "You are going to military school!" a feminine voice shouted,

"I am sick and tired of you antics and I don't want to hear another word! Go to bed!" I hear footsteps, so I go against the wall and hold my breath. As the footsteps quiet, I begin to breathe again, its shallow and I'm panting. I tiptoe up the stairs and avoid the loose step. I hear the muttering from downstairs even from above, "Fergus, I seriously don't know what to do. Its madness! Our daughter grown up so fast but our sons, don't think they ever will."

"Well women mature faster than men," My fathers voice soothes

* * *

The rest of the words are like ghosts now, I know they are there, but can't see or hear them. I back away from their conversation and turn the handle of my bedroom door. I lie in my bed, my hair sprawled across the sheets, thinking of what is going to become our family, all the possibilities. Will they be here for the holiday? Will I keep thinking they are here? Will I miss them? Of course I would miss them. It's my first day of university, and my whole family is falling apart. Maudie is gone, and she has been a great piece of my childhood. She used to tuck me in bed when my parents went out; she used to tell me eat my food when I didn't. I wish I could thank her but she is gone now. My brothers are leaving soon to a military school. I can't forget any of their pranks, all the laughs we shared. I used to never appreciate these moments but now I wish I could relive the times. I want to change time, I want to feel the happiness again, but now I'm torn. I pull my phone out of my pocket and ring the recent number. It rings, and I want him to pick up.

"Hey Mer!" his voice is enthusiastic on the other end,

"Hey, Hic."

"Hic?"

"Or do ye prefer Up?"

"No, No, Hic is good." I laugh full-heartedly

"Why did your parents name you `Hiccup?"

"Well I feel in the mood so I'll tell you," I hear him cracking his knuckles, "My parents thought I was going to be a girl, so when I was born they didn't have a name for me and the first noise apart from crying was a hiccup." I smile at his little comment, I'm so glad I'm not speaking to him directly, cause I think I look like a creep.

"Hiccup, hang on I'm going to put your on speaker," I press a button and his voice come out-lout, I leave my phone on my bed and I stand up for I can change into my pajamas, "So Hiccup, there's this party on Friday," I swap my shirts, and throw the one I wore today in my laundry basket, "And I want you to come…" I roll down my jean and switch them for my tartan trousers.

"Mer, I don't know…"

"Please" I plead, "Its on the beach," I think of the most cliché thing that would be one of the reasons guys go to the beach, "There would be a lot of…" I struggle to say these words because it's sexist to the women's physique, "hot girls in bikinis." I say as fast as I can. I can believe people get paid to pose, exposing their bodies and people pay to see it. It's like advertising sex. More children in the world, equals more people to spoil and take money away from. I don't hear his voice; he is probably blushing like hell. Then I hear his soft chuckle, "Will you be in a bikini?" I blush; I've been doing that a lot lately. I scratch my head, "No. I think it's inappropriate for women to show their bodies in the tiniest of triangles!" I protest, and I hear the sweet sound of his laughter, if he were here in front of me I can imagine him having his palm across his eyes, shaking his head,

"Then how would you go to the sea?" he asks.

Then I ask myself the same question, then I come up with a solution,

" I'll wear a tank-kini." I say as I change the settings on the phone so I can speak to him personally. "A tank-what?" I can see him raising an eyebrow even though I can't see it physically, "Its a two piece swimsuit, to the top piece is a tank-top, and the bottom bit is of a bikini." I huff, and he just cracks up, "What's so funny?"

"You're such a feminist!" If he were here I would throw my pillow at him, but he isn't so I just clutch my phone so hard that my knuckles turn white,

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no just a funny thing." I scrunch up my nose and change the subject,

"So are ye coming to the party?"

"Maybe, but I need more details."

"I will text you them, but for now I'm tired, bye Hic."

"Bye Merida." A long beep ends the conversation and I sigh and lie in my bed. There is a rapid knock at the door; I get up to answer it. Long brown greying locks, are what I see when I open my door and she asks me if she can come in and I gesture that she can. She sits at the foot of my bed and undoes and redoes her plats, adding connotations that she is nervous. "What is it Ma?"

"Merida there is something I need to tell you."

"Okay…"

"Your brothers are going military school."

"I know…"

"You know?"

"Yeah I kind of heard you shouting to them." I say awkwardly giving her a crooked smile, she sighs and hide her face in her palms,

"Merida, I don't know what to say, they're always causing trouble and stress, I canae deal with it! Maudie's gone, help is gone and now I think hope is gone!"

I soothe her by rubbing her back, and she calms down a bit. She is crying and she is supposed to be the one telling me that everything is supposed to be alright and that worry is never the answer. "Mum we should forget about this and talk about something else."

"How was university?" Oh shit.

I scratch my head, "It was ok. Nothing hard." I hope she doesn't say what I think she is going to say… "Have you made any friends?" and there it is.

"Um… Yeah… some."

"Who?" She jumps up and down on my bed like a little girl and a childish grin on her face, "Err… A girl named Leonie, A guy named Hiccup-…"

"A guy?" she interrupts, she squeals and hugs a pillow, she is acting more like a teenager than a mother. I sigh, "Yes mum a guy…" she squeezes the pillow tightly,

"What is he like?"

I sigh again, "He's all right, chestnut hair- shaggy. Green eyes, light freckles, nice smile. Annoying. Well he is a guy!"

"Mhmm…"

"Well, forget about him."

"I'm glad to hear that you had a good day." She smirks at me but I don't understand why, I smile back at her, "Yeah." She kisses my forehead, her lips warm,

"Goodnight honey…"

"Night." She walks towards the door then switches the light off and closes the door slowly. I sigh and shuffle myself in between the covers and my eyelids feel heavy and I drift into sleep.

* * *

 **It's me again! I wish you love this, if not, well we all have different opinions. Sorry because of Hiccup's OOC-ness but this will be explained later in the story. And excuse me for attempting to do a scottish accent, but I'm not scottish and you can probably see/read that! This will be a ROTBTD fanfic! Please review or leave a comment to help me improve! I would love if people gave me ideas and tips and thanks again for reading- Maybe!**


	2. Dreams

Still September 1:

Blackness that's all I see, but things begin to clear up now. Green leaves. Bark. I'm in a forest, birds tweeting a sweet melody. The smell of nature and fresh air is what I would like to smell everyday. Dew drops, dripping from the tree leaves, creating a pathway of crystals. A blue childlike flame, whispers for me to follow it. _It's only a dream_ I urge myself. My legs feel heavy, so its difficult from me to lift them and carry them to my destination, but all I needed to do is follow the blue flame. What seemed like an easy task is now something worthy of someone more skilled. _I will do this,_ I say to myself, _this is my dream; it's my choice of what happens here._ I elevate my feet from the imaginary glue from the ground, and sprint to the blue flame, energy flowing through my veins. As I reach out for the blue creature, it moves back, but I walk towards it, determined to touch just a hint of flame, the sensation to be burnt… by something unusual. My finger touched the tip of its head, but the thing that surprises me that it's a cool feel, not something hot like I expected. But the unexpected is always the best. A trail of blue creatures appears and leads, into the forest. I pursue them until, the trail ends. It's all a blur… but all I see is green eyes, freckles and a smile. I begin to feel a grin rise… but then I wake up…

* * *

 **Sorry for the short chapter... please review and favourite and follow...**


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